


Mori me

by Vyria



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 04:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19221919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyria/pseuds/Vyria





	Mori me

After a long day of travel you are a finally settled in for the night at your AirBNB. After some scheduling mixups, your friends had to wait a day to come up, so you're making the best of a night alone. You're sitting in a crop top and pajama pants watching the Diabolik Lovers while you wait for a delivery guy to show up with dinner. The back of the living room has large glass doors to a forest. It looked beautiful during the day but now that it's night you decided it's a little spooky so you didn't want to watch anything that might get you too frightened. You've turned off all the lights because in spite of the large glass doors, the moonlight pouring in does give beautiful ambience.

You're on episode 4 when you think you see something out of the corner of your eye through the glass doors. You look into the forest and back between the trees you see a shape you recognize and freeze. You feel an intense mixture of fear and excitement but are completely unable to move until you hear a pounding at the door. You look with panic towards the door. "Grubhub!" the guy on the other side announces and you realize it's your dinner. You look back to the forest and the shape is gone. You reassure yourself it was just your overactive imagination. "Coming!" you yell towards the door as you pause your anime.

You open the door and are greeted by a purple, choking face. You see a hand crushing the delivery guy's trachea and a towering figure behind him. You take several steps back in horror as the now lifeless delivery guy is tossed aside and Michael Myers walks through the door into the living room, knife in hand. 

You are horrified but intrigued, now is finally your chance to befriend a killer. Michael walks up and stands before you. He's bigger than you imagined. He approaches your with stead speed but you hold your ground. Standing there looking down at you, he seems to wait. You shaking, scared, nervous, excited. You don't know what to do, you're not sure how to get through to him. You reach your arms out and hug him. You get your arms around him and try your best to give him a firm, secure hug. He simply stands unmoving, you wait a second, then another, then a few more, but this seems to do nothing. Then you see his fist tighten on the massive kitchen knife he's holding and your flight response takes over. 

As you turn to flee, Michael grabs your left forearm, twisting and crushing it in his unnaturally strong grip. You shriek in pain as you hear a crunch. You try to keep moving but Michael's grip is unyielding. You can feel the sickly sensation of your fractured ulna moving inside your arm as you struggle.

You begin to feel sick at the sensation but before you can dwell on it any longer, Michael effortlessly whips you by your arm towards the wall. Before you can comprehend your feet leaving the ground, you crater into the drywall then slowly collapse to the ground. You look down at your arm see it already swollen and purple where it was mangled, your fingers are numb but can still move. Michael slowly and purposefully strides towards you. 

As you sit slumped on the floor, Michael looks even more towering. You look up as he stands monolithic before you, filling your entire world. He reaches down, wrapping his massive left hand around your throat. It's not the crushing grip he used on your arm. This grip is firm but you think almost gentle, somehow reassuring. It's with this grip that he drags you up. You try to stand with the rising motion but you leave your feet again as he drags you up against the wall next to your impact. He holds you there against the wall by your throat, eye to eye with him at almost his full arms length. You dangle there staring at his implacable mask, trying to find some glimps of the face below, his eyes. You search for any kind of connection but in the dim lighting you can only see hollow sockets, a void stares back. Now you notice the only thing that betrays his humanity: his heavy, steady breaths. Your own breath is panicked, shallow and shaky, but his is like a metronome.

The rhythm of it actually begins to calm you, until the knife rises into your view. Whatever calm you've gained flees as you stare at the kitchen knife glimmer in the moonlight before your face. He holds it there for a few seconds before raising it over his left shoulder, then strikes. The impact of his backhand dizzies you as you feel the sting of your now shattered right cheekbone. You loll your head around still dazed as your blurred vision refocuses, confused that it was not the slash you expected. Suddely your face feels wet. Reaching up with you right hand you touch the bridge of your nose and pull back fingers covered in blood. You realize the knife nicked you as it flew past in Michael's fist, the wound is the least of your concerns, but it bleeds profusely pouring over your nose and mouth. Your hand drops back to your side and you look back to Michael. His knife hand is still raised and as you stare at it, almost entranced, he brings down the butt of the handle directly onto your left eye. You let loose a wimper at the strike. Slowly, red creeps into your view, tinging only a corner, then filling it, then your entire left eye sees pitch black. You realize blood has filled the entire cornea, an eightball fracture. Your left eye has its own tiny void to match Michael's hollows.

Still holding you by your throat against the wall, Michael steps closer. You continue to peer with your remaining eye but even this close it's too dark to see inside the mask. Hearing is breath this close, you notice the strange echo it makes inside his mask. Your focus on his breathing is broken when you squeak at a cold pinching sensation to the left of your navel. As the pinch grows and begins to sting, you feel warmth on your exposed abdomen. Your eyes go wild with the dawning realization the knife has entered your stomach. Almost involuntarily, in a pleading whisper you say, "no." You continue "No, no, no, no, no..." as he withdraws the knife as slowly as he inserted it. The next stab is not so slow, but the knife is so sharp you only feel a broad stinging in the wake, this time higher. The second stab ends your pleas and your rapid breathing escalates to hyperventilation. You can only stare back as he randomly stabs across your abdomen again, and again, and again. On the sixth stab, he strays low and wide from the original thrust. As the knife enters you the blade grinds through the crest of your hip bone. You let loose a full throated low moan of agony, squirming in Michael's unyielding grip as you body tells you to make it stop. Your moan doubles as he slides the knife back out, sawing further into bone, but you feel a relief when the knife leaves you.  
Michael now pulls you away from the wall, and tosses you unceremoniously to the ground on your back. Laying there, you crane your neck up to inspect the sea of red that is your stomach. You know you are beyond hope, you are already dead, still conscious only by virtue of the adrenaline coursing through your rapidly draining blood. Michael stands there at your feet, you look up at him and imagine what he sees. You wonder how tiny and broken your body looks before him, how you will look to others when they find you. Michael walks forward now straddling your body, towering above you again. For a brief moment, standing above you in the moonlight he looks angelic. You have a brief moment of hope, you are delirious, you are experiencing shock.

Michael drops to his knees and leans over bringing his face up to yours. You hear his breathing even louder, he's close enough that you can feel it coming from the eye and under the neck of the mask. You're not afraid anymore. You're calm. Your breathing is slow and controlled and unconsciously, you bring it into synchronicity with Michael's. You look into his eyes but still see nothing but inky blackness. Breathing in sync with Michael, you get lost staring into vacant mask and feel at peace. The knife partially shatters as it comes crashing through your ribs and into your left lung.

You make no sound. Your mouth opens and you strain forward but nothing comes out. This is a pain so extreme your body doesn't even know how to express it, but Michael stil stares face to face, having barely moved when be brought his arm around to plunge the knife. Your wordless scream subsides and you try to breathe again, but it's wrong, it's all wrong. Blood comes gurgling from your mouth. You cough, spattering Michael's mask. Your attempted breaths have fallen out of synch with Michaels, his now outpacing yours. You return to staring into the void of his eyes, listening to him breathe, your last universal constant. You attempt one final, futile breath before your eyes roll back, as if in ecstacy.


End file.
